Chapter 139: Date Night
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A few moments later...
Lily did not walk. She advanced through the market streets like a general inspecting a conquered city, except her battlefield was shops, her soldiers were merchants, and her weapon was a smile that made grown men forget their own prices.
Sekhmet followed two steps behind her with the quiet, resigned dignity of a man who had survived monsters, contracts, torture racks, and cabbage war... only to be defeated by shopping.
Auri was not with them.
This was Lily’s demand.
It was also Lily’s victory.
Bat Bat was not with them either, because Elena had declared "study day," and Elena’s study days were written in the same invisible law that governed storms and death.
So it was just the two of them.
Lily’s mood had stabilized into something sharp and possessive. She was still wounded, but she had chosen a method of healing that involved forcing Sekhmet to suffer publicly by carrying bags.
"Do not look so tragic," Lily said without turning her head. "People will think I kidnapped you."
Sekhmet adjusted the stack of boxes under one arm. A ribboned parcel pressed against his chest like a reminder that pride was optional in this city.
"They would be correct," he said.
Lily laughed, pleased.
She stopped in front of a stall selling hair ornaments — thin metal pieces shaped like flowers, birds, and tiny blades. Lily picked up one that looked like a silver leaf with a ruby bead.
She held it up near her temple and tilted her head, studying herself in a handheld mirror like she was judging a rival.
"How do I look," she asked.
Sekhmet looked.
Her hair caught sunlight. The ornament glinted. Her eyes were bright in a way they had not been earlier.
"You look expensive," he said.
Lily’s lips twitched.
"That is the correct answer," she replied.
The stall merchant leaned forward instantly, smelling the blood in the water.
"Miss has excellent taste," the merchant praised. "This piece is made with blessed silver. It resists curse energy. Very rare."
Sekhmet’s gaze slid to the merchant’s hands.
The man’s fingers were clean. His nails were trimmed. His eyes were too eager.
Lily looked at Sekhmet without speaking. Her eyes asked a question in the way noble daughters did.
Sekhmet answered it with his face. He did not smile. He did not frown.
He just looked at the ornament for a second longer than necessary, then said calmly, "Blessed silver would irritate your skin. This is polished iron with a silver dye."
The merchant’s smile froze.
Lily blinked once, then slowly lowered the ornament.
The merchant tried to laugh.
"Sir jokes," he said quickly. "Maybe not blessed—"
Sekhmet cut him off with the mild tone of a man discussing weather.
"Price," Sekhmet said.
The merchant swallowed.
"Three hundred chaos stones," the man said, suddenly less poetic.
Sekhmet nodded.
"Now it is honest," he replied.
Lily’s laugh burst out unexpectedly, loud enough that two passersby turned to look.
She leaned closer to Sekhmet, voice low.
"You ruin fun," she whispered, but her eyes were gleaming.
Sekhmet shifted the parcels again.
"You said buy everything you want," he reminded her. "You did not say you want to be scammed."
Lily tapped his arm lightly with her knuckle.
"I want both," she said.
Sekhmet stared at her.
Lily smiled sweetly.
"Fine," she sighed. "I will allow you to ruin only half the scams."
The merchant looked like he wanted to cry.
They moved on.
Lily dragged him into fabric shops, accessory stalls, perfume counters, and one ridiculous boutique that sold beastkin-tail ribbons in twenty-seven shades of unnecessary.
At one point, Lily held up a small bottle of perfume and sprayed the air.
The scent was sharp at first, then softened into something warm and floral.
She tilted her head.
"Does it suit me," she asked.
Sekhmet inhaled once.
"It smells like someone trying to hide a crime," he said.
Lily stared at him.
Then she burst into laughter again, nearly dropping the bottle.
"You are impossible," she said between laughs.
Sekhmet’s face remained calm.
"That is also correct," he replied.
She bought it anyway, because Lily did not choose perfume to please Sekhmet.
She chose it to mark territory.
And she applied a little to her wrist, then offered it toward Sekhmet’s face.
"Smell," she demanded.
Sekhmet leaned in slightly.
Then Lily lifted her wrist and dabbed the perfume onto the collar of Sekhmet’s shirt before he could react.
He froze.
She grinned with the satisfaction of a predator.
"Now you smell like me," Lily announced.
Sekhmet stared at her.
"That is not a business expense," he said.
Lily’s grin widened.
"It is," she replied. "It is an investment."
They ate late lunch at a street-side place that served grilled meat and spicy broth in bowls large enough to drown regret. Lily talked more than she had in days, complaining about noble politics, laughing about servants’ gossip, and mocking one particular young master who had tried to impress her by reciting poetry while tripping over his own robe.
Sekhmet listened, answering occasionally, letting her voice wash over the sharp edges left by the Contract Market.
For a while, he almost forgot blood and debts and the word concubine.
Almost.
Then evening arrived like a quiet warning.
The city’s light changed.
The bustle softened. Shadows grew longer. The air cooled. People who lived honest lives began heading home. People who lived dangerous lives began heading out.
Lily walked with Sekhmet toward the city lord’s district.
The gates to that part of the city were larger, the guards better dressed, the street cleaner. Even the stones looked richer.
Lily slowed near the final turn where Sekhmet would need to go his own way.
She looked at him sideways.
"You are going back," she said.
It was not a question.
Sekhmet nodded.
"Yes," he replied.
Lily’s expression tightened.
She wanted to say something sharp, but she swallowed it.
Instead she stepped closer and fixed a small crease on Sekhmet’s collar—right where she had dabbed the perfume.